I was never a punk. In high school I was a trendy little femme who liked the Smiths and sixties music. Duckie was my fashion icon. The only punk rock I listened to was the Dead Milkmen.
The king of the punks at my school was a senior named Alex who came to class one morning with perfectly spiked hair. Multiple four-inch spikes of Ziggy-red hair held up with egg whites or Elmer’s or some other gravity defying concoction. While he was walking down the hall some big dumb jock took a donut and placed it on one of those epic spikes.
Alex left the donut on his head for the rest of the day.
To me, that epitomizes punk rock. You make a personal statement that goes against the grain, you get hassled for it, but ultimately you subvert that mockery by reclaiming it and making it your own.
I didn’t see any donuts at Riot Fest this year but there was no shortage of that same punk rock attitude.
Look at this picture and just imagine the comments. Imagine being a poor soul with ugly shoes who happens to pass by. The insults would be earth shattering. Mozzer, Russell Brand and Noel Gallagher all passing judgment on you in a public space? It’s just too much.
But now imagine that rhetorical arsenal put to work for good. Imagine these were the judges of a nationally televised talent show. Forget American Idol or The X Factor or America’s Got Talent…this is Fuck Off The Stage!
Act after act would come out to perform their bit and then stand there as these three loudmouths dress them down for the entertainment of millions. Mozzer’s turn-of-phrase, Noel’s Northern English verbal blunt trauma, Brand’s…Brand-ism. The horror!
And the best part would be that nobody wins…ever. The season would end with no winner, no big finale…just those three guys having pints and talking shit. THAT I would watch.
“19 years to-the-day since Morrissey met guitarist Johnny Marr, Princess Diana is killed under circumstances foreshadowed in Morrissey’s work.” I absolutely love shit like this. So good, so fun, so nutty.
Princess Diana smashed into the 13th pillar in the underpass, which therefore means that she smashed into the 13th of the “arches” formed by those pillars. Correspondingly, Morrissey’s 13th word on Side 1 of the album THE QUEEN IS DEAD is the word “arches”; Morrissey’s 13th word on Side 2 of the album THE QUEEN IS DEAD is the word “smash.”
But during his second song, Black Cloud, he stepped forwards to the front of the stage to shake the hands of fans when a plastic bottle of beer was hurled at him. The singer stood up and said ‘goodnight’ to the stunned 8,000-strong crowd before walking off stage.
One dipshit in Liverpool ruined it for everybody. You don’t fuck with the Mozfather.
According to a post on fan site True To You, Morrissey would like it to be known that he “has not received a royalty from EMI since 1992” and “last received a royalty payment from Warners ten years ago.”
This comes in response to his former labels releasing some new vinyl box sets. The 7″ Singles ’88-’91, is due October 12 in the UK from EMI, and The HMV/Parlophone Singles ’91-’95 is due November 2. No US release is scheduled for those. Also, Warner/Rhino UK is releasing a box of the Smiths‘ four studio albums, remastered 180 gram vinyl (bundled with MP3s). But Moz was not consulted and does not approve.
For a while now, Brooklyn has been a hotbed of cooler than thou indie bands and freaky neo-hippies; I don’t know what is going on over there. Maybe that little borough has an unusually high unemployment rate that allows these kids to lounge about making records and scouring vintage shops. Whatever…keep the good jams coming.
The Jaguar Club is our latest find and they indeed hail from Brooklyn but exhibit more of an association with mid-80s Manchester than the neo-funk or synth driven palette of their neighbors. There’s more than a bit of the Smiths lurking in the corners of their basement and the minimalist approach to recording would make our friends in MGMT quiver at the thought of being so exposed. Singer/guitarist Will Popadic’s vocal styling won’t be for everyone. The band’s one-sheet cites Morrissey and Interpol‘s Paul Banks as inspirations and neither exhibit a dynamic range but each (especially our beloved Moz) offer a distinct personality that our newbie is still trying to find. But check them out and let’s see how they develop on their debut self-released LP And We Wake Up Slowly, out on September 1.
The 1997 album, produced by Steve Lillywhite, has been re-sequenced by Morrissey and remastered, adding several b-sides and ditching two songs (“Roy’s Keen” and “Papa Jack”). Packaging includes a new cover, a 24-page booklet, a new essay by Morrissey, and rare photos.
This was during my Morrissey blackout period, so I might actually have to pick this up…